


like golden dust on off-white canvas

by iwantacorgisobad



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - High School, Attempt at Humor, Drama, Fluff, I only tagged the mainest main characters because there's literally everyone, Multi, Thomas and Newt are head over heels for each other and everybody ships them, and a lot of weird things happen and it's ridiculous, artist life is a mess, rated as mature because of the insufferable amount of sex jokes, there will also be mentions of darker themes but it's mostly just sex jokes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-31 11:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwantacorgisobad/pseuds/iwantacorgisobad
Summary: If senior year hadn't been stressful enough on its own, an unexpected exhibition coming up is sure to make things even worse. At least, Thomas has his friends to turn everything into a joke - and Newt as his constant source of inspiration. Once they are done with it, everything is going to be okay anyway, right?//aka the high school and the artist AU no one ever asked for, all in one





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay guys so i practically have zero idea how high schools and art schools and graduation and all that sh*t work in the US, so i kinda based everything on how they work where i live, i hope it's not going to be too confusing, but of course i'm always happy to explain if it is. i also wanted to write something (rather) unusual, soo the main characters are already dating, but don't worry, there will be a lot of other things and ships to root for and worry about lol. (i just contradicted myself.) anyway, i hope you'll enjoy it, happy reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay guys so i practically have zero idea how high schools and art schools and graduation and all that sh*t work in the US, so i kinda based everything on how they work where i live, i hope it's not going to be too confusing, but of course i'm always happy to explain if it is. i also wanted to write something (rather) unusual, soo the main characters are already dating, but don't worry, there will be a lot of other things and ships to root for and worry about lol. (i just contradicted myself.) anyway, i hope you'll enjoy it, happy reading!

“12th grade sucks, man,” Thomas declared under his breath as he stared at the massive cock mere metres before him. It was hanging in just about eye-level, and the owner clearly made no effort to cover himself up. What would he do that for, though – he got his money for being naked.

“Do tell me more, Tommy,” Newt turned to him, a sarcastic smile on his lips, although he was unashamedly curious about Thomas’ thoughts. “Sounds interesting, how you’re saying this staring at someone’s dick.”

Thomas almost spat at that comment, finally tearing his gaze from the model’s body to look Newt dead in the eyes. “Don’t worry, the only dick I care about is yours,” he said, blinking rapidly, to appear even more innocent. The different hues of pink and red pastels on his face did it for him long ago, though. “Okay, maybe mine, too, but you get the point.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he nodded, and picked up a dark blue chalk of pastel as he turned back to his sketch. He decided to experiment that day. “You wash down there like twice a week and touch yourself a lot?”

“I wash every day,” he scoffed, and suddenly wished for the model to return to his original position.

“You didn’t correct me on the second part,” Newt said, and Thomas swore he heard both the smile and the suggestive eyebrow raise in his voice.

“Not like you don’t know.”

“Not like I’m not disappointed about it,” he sighed dramatically, and held the pause for a few seconds more, just to watch the confusion on the younger’s face. “I’d rather touch you instead.”

Thomas was just about to answer when Teresa chided in, holding her piece of charcoal alarmingly close to Thomas’ face. “We get it, guys, everybody ships you, but can you make this already awkward situation a little… less awkward?”

“You find this situation awkward?” Their heads all snapped towards the source of the voice, but the sight presented to them was so absurd they had to choke back a laugh.

The teacher, Ms Paige, in her crisp white outfit despite the rain of colourful pastel dust flying around stood before them – and close behind her was the butt-naked model with his hands on his hips, raising his eyebrows so high it made his eyes widen like a maniac’s. Teresa let her shoulders slump a bit in shame.

“It’s okay, Teresa,” Ms Paige said, unsettlingly calmly, “It’s not a big deal. It’s just like any other body part, you just draw what you see. In proportion. Not smaller or bigger. I get it’s a stressful situation, you don’t want to hurt his self-esteem, but there’s no need to exaggerate.”

Thomas could barely hold back his cackle by the time she finished talking, and he couldn’t decide what was funnier: Ms Paige believing she was of any help, or Teresa desperately trying not to cry from frustration and suppressed laughter. The teacher finally left when she decided she got her message through after Teresa nodded stiffly, but the model stayed for a little longer, leaning uncomfortably close to her.

“I can wear a thong next time if it helps,” he whispered, loud enough for the boys to hear as well. Teresa would’ve been thankful had it not been for the awkwardly sensual way the man said that, and let out a huge breath when he finally went back to his phone again.

“That’d actually be sexy,” Newt wondered, successfully smudging dark blue on his chin as he did so. “On you,” he corrected as soon as he saw the bewilderment on Thomas’ face.

 

 

“So, what’re you guys doing for the exhibition?” Minho asked, swinging his legs over a table as he opened his lunchbox and got a slice of pizza out. A crumpled one, but still pizza.

“Fo’ zhe wha’?” Thomas asked back, his mouth full of food.

Newt frowned at him, “You’re disgusting.”

“You love me.”

“For the exhibition,” Minho repeated, uncaring of the little display of ‘affection’.

“We still don’t get it, Min,” Newt informed him after a dragged-out silence – in which only Thomas’ loud chewing was audible.

“Have you not heard?”

“Apparently, no,” he glared, and rolled his eyes when it got to him that there’s probably yet another project shoved upon them, just before graduation.

“I see it’s not a hot story yet, then,” Minho nodded in ironic approval, not even surprised anymore. “Some fancy people are visiting the mayor next month and they want to decorate the Town Hall with art done by art students to represent the artsy youth or something.”

“Well, blow me,” Newt huffed, leaning back against the wall. Thomas’ eyes roamed him up and down.

“Right here, right now?”

Newt wanted to make a retort but Minho’s off-key singing cut him off, “ _Stand my ground and never back dooown!_ ”

“What the fuck—”

“That’s so 2010, dude,” Thomas cringed, and immediately had Minho gasping in defense.

“It’s a great song!”

“Whatever.”

They had a full thirty seconds to eat in silence before the doors flew open and the head teacher of the art department burst into the room, panting as if he had run a marathon. “Where’s Ava?”

“We don’t know,” Newt blinked in surprise, barely managing to swallow the bite he had just taken before answering Mr Janson. He looked at them somewhat disbelievingly, and almost left with just that when his eyes fell on Minho.

“You!”

“Me?” he asked, eyes wide with surprise as he pointed at himself with his free hand.

“Yes, you’re from my group, are you not? What are you doing here?”

“I’m eating?”

“Go back to class, what were you even thinking?”

“With all due respect, it’s lunch break,” he said warily, although sarcasm was dripping from his words.

“’Lunch break’,” he scoffed, crossing his arms before his chest, but said nothing as he left – for real, this time.

Thomas turned to Minho questioningly, and, for once, swallowed his food before opening his mouth, “What’s up with him again?”

“No idea, man,” he shrugged in confusion, letting out a half-hearted chuckle. He was _so done_ with school he couldn’t wait for the remaining thirty weeks to pass. “Probably the exhibition.”

“Is it that big of a deal?” Thomas whined. “We had like… two successful exhibitions already.”

“Yeah, and we attempted at least five times that many,” Newt reminded him, glaring, although with a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Thomas waved a hand dismissively, unwilling to acknowledge their failures, even though some of them were almost hilarious. Almost. But rather ridiculous.

“You know, I can sorta see what has his panties in a twist,” Minho started, but Newt cut him off with a snicker.

“I don’t think that saying applies for guys.”

“Well, now it does, let me finish,” he insisted, and cleared his throat for authority. “I mean, he’s head of the art department. Important person among local artists. People in this industry know his name—”

“Bloody great for them, we don’t, and he’s been teaching us for four years,” Newt cut in again, and Minho gave him a hard glare, but he didn’t blink an eye. “I googled him and found nothing. So much about ‘well-known artists’.”

“You must have a lot of free time,” Thomas blinked in admiration.

Minho stared at Newt for what felt like an eternity before he spoke up again, “I change my mind. Newt has his panties in a twist, not Janson. Dude, what’s wrong?”

“I have a guess,” Thomas replied smugly, and stared Newt down so obviously it almost made him blush. Not like he had a reason to.

“Can you not—”

“It’s _nothing_ ,” Newt retorted, smacking Thomas on the knee.

Minho raised his hands defensively, “I can leave you alone if you want me to.”

“Nah, why don’t you just join us? The more the merrier,” Thomas winked at him, and Minho couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or to scurry away as soon as possible. Newt huffed.

“I’m offended, Tommy.”

“You know I’m joking,” he pouted, and rubbed Newt’s thigh apologetically with his clean hand – the other was covered in mustard and God-knows-what.

“You wouldn’t want _me_ in bed with you?” Minho said, dropping his jaw, then laughed as he leaned back in his chair again. “Just joking, I wouldn’t want me in bed with me either,” he shrugged, “I already have me in bed.”

“And you say we’re disgusting,” Thomas deadpanned, and looked at Newt for comfort but he looked just as disappointed.

“I never said you were disgusting, I just asked you not to—”

“You _implied_.”

“What’s with you two not letting me speak today?”

“We never actually wanted you to speak in the first place,” Newt started, scratching his chin, “we just had enough now.”

“Took us long enough,” Thomas muttered, making sure Minho heard it anyway – and he earned an offended snap, just as he had expected.

“I’m starting to be happy about not being in the same group as you two are,” he rolled his eyes, and stuffed the remainder of his pizza into his mouth before standing up.

“What, you’re leaving now?” Thomas looked up at him in confusion, suddenly afraid they went too far with the teasing.

“Yeah,” he nodded, raising his chin just a little higher than necessary. “A man’s gotta pee, has he not? Guess you don’t want to join me in that.”

“Actually…” Newt pondered, and jumped up from his seat just as Thomas was about to continue the insults, relieved that Minho wasn’t mad.

“I don’t think Minho needs assistance with that,” he furrowed his brows, looking from one of them to the other. Newt’s suggestive gaze landed on him immediately.

“Don’t be jelly, Tommy,” he said, and stopped, seeming to think, then added, with a smirk: “Not yet.”

 

 

Ms Paige was back sooner than usual after lunch break, announcing, with a seemingly annoyed expression, that Mr Janson would be paying a visit soon and that she hopes they all will be working when he arrives. A few displeased grunts erupted from various members of the class, but it didn’t take them long to settle back onto their drawing benches again, after all.

“What the hell is the man up to again?” Teresa asked, leaning closer to Thomas once he angled the board on his lap. The model hadn’t resided back to his chair yet, and she decided it was the perfect opportunity to get some gossip.

“Minho says there’ll be an exhibition in the Town Hall next month,” Thomas whispered, glancing repeatedly in the teacher’s direction, but she seemed busy scribbling in her planner. “Some big ass dudes from the government visiting the mayor or something, and they want us to do the decoration.”

“And they specifically asked for the seniors?” she whined, thinking about all the other responsibilities still waiting for them. For example, prom was coming up in two months and they had absolutely no idea what to do for it.

“If you think ‘bout it,” Frypan said as he poked his head between them, “we have been here the longest, so they assume we make the best art at this school. Too bad the freshmen have far more dedication.”

“Yeah, but who’d want to deal with them at an exhibition? Hyper little ankle-biters,” Newt joined in, but didn’t turn to them, instead fiddled with his pastels. Teresa bit her lip to suppress a laugh, and Thomas’ head snapped to face him.

“Hey, not all of them are that bad! There’s Chuck, he’s kinda cool,” he said, coming to the chubby boy’s defense immediately. He was the son of a friend of his father’s or something like that, and Thomas had known him for a while – although he admitted the kid could be annoying sometimes.

“Ya mean disco ball hair biffa from Photography?” Newt hummed, and had everyone else in the conversation fall silent for a moment, trying to figure out what he had just said. It’d been four years since they moved from Britain and Newt still spoke as if he were reading a Chinese textbook sometimes.

Thomas was the first to decide it needn’t have been important if he could still answer the question without understanding, and nodded, “Yeah, the chubby boy with the curls, and he’s, y’know, overexcited sometimes. A lot, actually.”

“Oh, I know him!” Teresa finally remembered, but her expression fell almost immediately. “He was the guy who spilled ink over my folder in September.”

“Oh my God, and he’s still alive?” Frypan cackled, earning nothing but an eye-roll from Teresa and a pitying look from Thomas.

“I don’t kill everyone who wrongs me,” she protested, “Newt is still very much alive.”

The said blond frowned at her disbelievingly, “What have I done?”

“I’d like to ask you the same question, Newt,” Ms Paige said, clearing her throat as she tapped two fingers against the top of his drawing board. “What have you done so far today?”

He sighed and put the chalks aside, turning the board around to show her his artwork – a practically empty paper, but if he were to be scolded, he’d at least admit to not doing anything in the previous four hours. “This.”

Ms Paige closed her eyes for a second to keep from pinching the bridge of her nose. _Damn seniors thinking they can do any damn thing._

“Graduation is coming up, you know that,” was all she said before walking off, her retreating form holding all the exasperation she probably felt then.

“Sometimes, I feel sorry for her,” Thomas started, staring into the distance as if deep in thought, “then I realize she’s not the one graduating this year.”

Gradually, they fell into an easy silence, almost all of them deciding to listen to music instead while they continued drawing. It didn’t necessarily keep them from talking to each other, but at least they could pretend they didn’t even hear Frypan when he cracked another terrible joke. Thomas got so involved in perfecting the details of the model’s face he didn’t even see when Mr Janson barged into the room – the next thing he knew the man was running around like a poisoned rat, and Thomas couldn’t help but admire how fitting it was.

“Okay, listen up,” Mr Janson started, after finally doing his usual rounds of making unreadable faces at everyone’s papers, “Where is…” he continued, then froze, looking down at the sorry excuse of a jotter in his hands, “Aris?”

Ms Paige opened her mouth to say something but whatever it was died on her lips, and she looked around the class for help instead. Most of them stared back at her in either confusion or amusement before Thomas took it upon him to answer, “In the other group, Mr Janson.”

“Alright, I’ll go ask their teacher later, let’s move on, then,” he said, and by that moment everyone was sure he had no idea whom he had been teaching for the past four years. “Is Newt here?”

“Yes,” he said, cautiously raising an eyebrow. Wherever the conversation was to go from there, he already didn’t like it.

“Good, I’m more than expecting some of your Indian ink pieces,” he nodded towards him, and was already back to reading his notes by the time Newt registered what he had said.

“They’re counting on you, man,” Thomas whispered with a proud smirk on his lips as he leaned closer. Newt startled at being jerked out of his thoughts, but once he realized who was talking to him, he let his shoulders relax, and Thomas rested his chin in the crook of his neck. “That’s so cool. It’s a big thing.”

Newt let out a sigh and was already gathering his thoughts to answer when Rachel cut in, “Excuse me, what’s this all about?”

“Haven’t I told you already?” Mr Janson asked, his expression so stern it made her retreat immediately.

“No, not my group,” Ms Paige replied instead of her, and he shot her a sharp glance for claiming a say in what he thought of as his business, but explained nonetheless.

“Some agents from the government are visiting the mayor next month about financing the renewal of five secondary schools around the state, and ours is on the list of the nominated. Of course, we will have to do everything to make them think this is among the worthiest, and what a better way than to show them the incredible art you kids do here?”

 

 

“Thank God it’s Friday,” Minho sighed as he threw the doors open and stepped outside, then held it for Thomas and Newt. “Can’t wait to spend the weekend sleeping, man, gonna be soo refreshing.”

“Did I just hear what I heard?” a voice called from behind them, and Minho fumbled to catch the door before it slammed in Teresa’s face.

“You just answered for yourself,” he pointed out, but she didn’t seem to care. Thomas and Newt were already a few steps ahead, turning back around in confusion when they noticed Minho wasn’t with them. It was replaced by that sense of _knowing_ , though, as soon as they saw Teresa standing close to him while the girls quickly walked outside. They exchanged a grin, and decided to eavesdrop on whatever was going on – in plain sight.

“You haven’t forgotten me, though, right?” she asked, pouting slightly. Minho shook his head quickly, and let go of the door when Lizzy stepped out lastly. She hurried over to the boys as soon as she noticed them, swinging her arms around their shoulders.

“You guys need a ride home?” she asked, shepherding them away from the scenario at the doors. _So, she knew what was going on._

She shook her head in disbelief when her brother shot her a confused look and rolled her eyes, “It’s Friday, I’m guessing Thomas boy here is staying over, right?”

“Ah, yeah, right,” he hummed, and looked at Thomas for suggestions, but he just shrugged. “Can you drop us off at a shop? We’ll walk from there, we just need—”

“Yup, no need to explain,” she nodded, a little too eagerly, and turned back around to blow some kisses to her friends before she switched places with Newt, so that he could continue holding Thomas’ hand.

“It’s nothing like that,” Newt scowled, and Lizzy gasped, smacking his arm.

“Why not? Safe sex is important!”

Thomas burst out laughing and Newt quickly smacked her back to shut her up, but Lizzy only kept grinning. “Can you be any louder?”

“I can try, let me just—”

“No,” he shook his head and quickly covered her mouth with his palm, smearing most of her sparkly lip gloss over it.

“Relax,” she mumbled, barely understandable from under his fingers. “You’re not the only gay one here.”

Newt’s eyes widened at that and he retracted his hand immediately, looking at her as if he had seen a ghost, yet somewhat curious at the same time. “You mean…”

“Yeah, Thomas is here as well, how could you forget?” she teased, but stole a quick glance at Harriet walking behind them with the others nonetheless. She just hoped Newt didn’t see it.

“Yeah, how could you forget?” Thomas was suspiciously quick to react, probably because he caught Lizzy’s stolen peek and got too excited to think of anything else when he saw Newt turn to him, pouting and opening his mouth to apologize. He seemed to change his mind when he saw his sparkling eyes, though.

“What’s that?” he asked instead, turning back around, but Lizzy was facing forward again by the time he looked in her direction.

“I just saw a puppy,” he said, and mentally slapped himself when he took a quick look around and realized there were no dogs in sight. Newt scoffed, but didn’t push the topic.

The rest of the walk to the car was quiet – the full ten seconds –, and even in there, Lizzy was the first one to speak, “By ‘dropping you off at a shop’ you meant dropping you off at the closest shop, right?”

“Yeah, we’d appreciate it if you didn’t bloody throw us out in the opposite end of town,” Newt replied, closing the door as he got into the car and fastened his seatbelt. He caught Thomas smile at his wording from the corner of his eyes.

“Too bad, I was considering,” she sighed, and ignited the engine. Most of the agonizingly slow and long ride in the traffic was spent fighting over the radio channel, but the final outcome didn’t please Newt in the slightest – Thomas and Lizzy had agreed on listening to Beyoncé and the beat of _Single Ladies_ was driving him crazy.

Sometimes, he felt like Thomas had become too much of a family member already; at least when he and his sister were picking on him, that is.

They quickly waved her goodbye when she parked the car in front of the little local shop, and hurried inside. It was looking like rain and, as romantic and exciting it seemed for Thomas and Newt, respectively, they didn’t want to get completely soaked. They strolled down the short corridor of sweets before they got to the freezers and split up immediately, looking for their usual deep-frozen pizza, but both ended up with empty hands at either ends of the row.

They exchanged a confused look as they walked back to each other, Newt talking first, “Nothing?”

“Yeah. Any other idea?” Thomas looked around them but he wasn’t exactly familiar with the little shop as they usually went to the one a few streets down when they needed something, and Newt seemed rather puzzled about the other options.

“All I’m seeing is frozen peas, but if that’s what you’re into…” he teased, pointing at the irrationally large bag of deep-frozen vegetables.

Thomas grimaced, and walked a few steps down the row, “What I’m into is definitely not frozen peas, but is definitely very close to me right now,” he said thoughtfully, and Newt raised a questioning eyebrow. “It’s fries.”

 _Of course_.

“Right, get those, then,” he huffed, but couldn’t keep from smiling to himself as he fished out his wallet from his backpack.

“I forgot something,” Thomas said suddenly, his head snapping up and making Newt startle, but his worries soon vanished when he walked up to him and kissed him on the lips – only to sneak his cold hand under his jacket’s collar and not let him go when he tried to squirm away from the touch. “For forgetting about me back there,” he added with a smirk when he finally pulled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (just to clear things up, I know Janson is not his last name, but it'd be too weird to call a teacher by his first, aaand since we don't know his last...)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! first i'd like to thank everybody reading this for, well, for reading this, lol. second, it's finals season in two months and an entrance exam in two weeks, so it's either going to take a bit longer for me to update, or i'll write a new chapter every few days because this is definitely not what i should be doing so of course i'm doing it. anyway, this chapter is a little shorter and more like a filler, the story processes a tiny bit but it's mainly focused on the boys this time (which isn't necessarily a bad thing i think?), with many more inappropriate jokes. i hope you'll enjoy!

“I still don’t get why they wouldn’t want nudes.”

Newt was standing by the stove, desperately trying not to get boiling oil splatter on his hands as he was frying the chips in a pan – and almost dropped it at that comment.

“Probably personal rights?” he said, half-laughing and half-coughing as he shook the pan to the sides to get the potatoes back in place. Thomas seemed to consider that for a moment, but then it turned out he just got too caught up watching a video about dogs on Instagram.

“Yeah, but those that don’t have their faces showing?” he pushed, scrolling down to another video of pet fails.

Newt rolled his eyes, took a plate, poured the fries on it, and only spoke after he got the next round of them into the frying pan. “Would ya want your naked body hanging around the Town Hall for all those buggers to see?” Thomas opened his mouth to answer, but he didn’t let him, continuing with, “Your face is not showing, but it’s still you.”

“But these people are professionals, they don’t give a damn if there are drawings of them naked at an exhibition. Like, I’m sure they’ve had drawings of them naked at exhibitions already.”

Newt sighed with a mixture of exasperation and fondness, “Let me try a different approach. Who would want to see naked bodies displayed at the Town Hall?”

Thomas fell silent. He wanted to retort with ‘ _me_ ’ so badly, but even he was aware that would lead to a banter he was not ready to have. Not with an empty stomach and his only focus on the fries Newt was making.

“You have a point there,” was all he finally said, and Newt registered it with a proud smirk. Just as he was reaching for the cupboard to get two glasses, Thomas’ phone let out that terrible, high-pitched barking sound he had set for new messages, and Newt was startled to almost dropping something once again.

“You havin’ a guilty conscience or something?” Thomas asked in a playfully teasing tone, but Newt didn’t have a chance to answer as he was cut off by the younger’s sudden laughter. “Minho seems very nervous about tomorrow.”

“Don’t laugh at him like that, it took you four months to ask me out,” he teased back, turned the stove off, and strolled to the fridge to get the ketchup.

“No, I want mayo,” Thomas squealed – without looking up from his phone –, and Newt barely managed to hold back his surprised laugh.

“You’re weird.”

“Sure…” he mumbled, suddenly caught up in reading his messages with a newfound seriousness.

“What’s it?” Newt asked after a few long moments of silence, and peeked over his shoulder to take a look at his phone – and, now that he was already there, he saw the chance and took it to kiss Thomas’ neck. He chuckled at the tickle of Newt’s breath on his skin but turned his phone towards him nonetheless.

_hey Thomas u up_

**sure, whatcha want**

_tf should i wear 2 the date tomorrow?_

“Tell him to wear a bowtie and a suit then text Teresa to go in jeans and a tee,” Newt suggested with a smirk, and immediately had Thomas gasping at the idea.

“I can’t decide if I’m proud of you or disappointed,” he finally managed, but lightly smacked Newt on the ass as a reward anyway. He laughed, then began setting the table – well, as much setting as it required for two messy teenage boys’ tossed-together dinner.

**Newt says wear a suit and a bowtie**

_tf has he lost his mind we’re going bowling_

**and he wants me to tell Teresa to wear jeans and a tee**

_wha—_

_shucking traitor_

“Are you cheating on me with Minho or something?” Newt asked, and Thomas noticed it only then that he was already sitting on the opposite side of the table, waiting only for him to start eating.

“Yeah, I mean no,” he replied absent-mindedly, then felt a wave of panic rush over him and corrected it immediately.

Newt raised an eyebrow questioningly, teasingly, sarcastically – and it made Thomas’ stomach do a variety of things other than growling from hunger. He quickly set his phone aside and picked up a piece of fries, knocked it to Newt’s as they said ‘cheers’, and started eating. Feasting, rather.

He promised himself not to look at his messages at least until they finished eating, especially because Newt appeared to be in an unusually cheerful mood, and rambled on about his plans for the exhibition like an excited child – a rare sight, even for Thomas. And man, did he love it.

Minho seemed to be in a state of panic, though, as his rapid fire of messages got even more frequent the less Thomas was replying to them, and once he called him, he had to answer at last.

“Bro, what the hell, we’re having a romantic dinner here—”

“A romantic dinner of _chips_.”

“Yeah, a romantic dinner of fries, whatever,” Thomas conveyed, then rambled on about Minho interrupting their ‘domestic date’. Newt, however, was apparently too touched by Thomas’ unobserved translation from British English to American, realizing that many habits of theirs had, indeed, rubbed off on each other. For example, the first time Thomas heard Newt ask his parents to ‘knock them up at 10’ he felt mildly bewildered, especially when his mother just nodded cheerfully and went about her evening. He had turned to Newt, unsure how to word his confusion, and earned his well-deserved pat on the back as he laughed at him, explaining how it was a term they used back in Britain to ask somebody to wake them up. (Thomas became even more convinced that Brits were weird as hell.)

Now, after weeks’ worth of nights spent at his place and hearing the term several times, it felt natural coming from his mouth – so much that he once accidentally asked his mom the same, and she almost dropped the plate she was holding.

“ _Right, whatever you say,_ ” Minho hushed, and as soon as Thomas put him on speaker, they could hear he was shuffling around. Somewhere. “ _So, after the bowling, I wanted to take her to this Asian fast food place—_ ”

“You’re getting her fast food?!”

Newt wanted to keep from criticism but his inner gentleman got in the way, making Thomas choke on his mouthful of fries. With mayo all over his lips. Newt had to force his eyes away.

“ _What else would I get her if she wanted to try Korean food? There are no Asian restaurants in this ‘town’._ ” The pure, unadulterated disgust he said it with made both of them burst out laughing, but it failed to make Minho any calmer.

“Dude, just chill,” Thomas advised, wiping first his eyes, then his mouth, “Bowling and fast food go together just fine. Casual, fun, whatever you want. Wear one of those funny T-shirts with the suit print or something, I bet she’s not gonna overdo it either.”

“You could cook at home, though,” Newt added, still offended by the fast-food-on-the-first-date idea. Thomas squeezed his hand reassuringly – smearing oil and mayonnaise all over his knuckles –, hoping it would stop him from making any more comments.

“Fast food is _fine_ ,” Thomas concluded after hearing Minho’s panicked typing on a keyboard. He was probably already looking for recipes, but Thomas was sure the world wouldn’t benefit from Minho trying to cook something.

“Why didn’t ya ask Brenda about the clothes? I thought she was the one studying fashion design,” Newt pondered, munching away on some fries; _casually looking like art._

“ _Are you nuts? She’d tell Teresa I’m panicking in the blink of an eye,_ ” he sputtered, but they had to admit he was right.

Thomas wondered what else he could say to make Minho relax a bit, but he didn’t have to think so hard after all, with their friend soon thanking their advice and saying his goodbye to ‘let them enjoy their romantic-domestic dinner of fries’. A preoccupied smile lingered on Newt’s lips for a while afterwards, and Thomas felt like he fell in love just a little bit more with him.

 

 

“You know, if I weren’t too lazy, I would draw you like that,” Thomas said, leaning against the railway comfortably, although it did feel a little cold against his naked skin in the chilly October night.

“Really?” he chuckled, and lifted the cigarette to his mouth again. Thomas didn’t say anything for a few stretched out seconds, letting his gaze linger on the other’s bare back, illuminated only by the moonlight. It seemed just bright enough, though.

“Yeah. On black paper, with white pastels. Well, not snow white because that would be terrifying, but like. Off-white.” Newt just hummed, sounding satisfied, and almost motioned for him to come closer when he started speaking again. “Maybe with a little golden for your hair. Dark blue for everything else.”

“That sounds like another masterpiece you’re never going to show anyone.”

Thomas smiled, nodded, then scooted closer without Newt actually asking him to. “Exactly.”

“Why? You could have so much recognition with these,” he asked, and seeing how Thomas got tangled up in his own thoughts, offered his cigarette as a means of relaxation. He declined, and opted for kissing him instead.

“Wouldn’t want anyone else seeing you like this.”

Newt’s lips curled upwards softly, and he pulled Thomas back with his free hand to continue the kiss. They pulled apart only when the cigarette between his fingers started burning his skin – then he put it out, and pecked Thomas on the mouth once more before letting a smirk take over his features.

“Possessive twat.”

 

 

“Hey, Newt!”

A voice called out, after several pounds on the door. She sounded like she was in a hurry.

“Thomas!”

It was Lizzy, they both knew it, but couldn’t bring themselves to reply. Thomas’ face was buried in a pillow anyway, and Newt’s lay somewhere under his boyfriend’s upper arm. Bear hugs in his sleep, huh.

“Just wanted to let you know Harriet is coming over, so if you leave the room please be decent!” she shouted, and banged on the door a few more times to make sure her message got through, then finally left.

“Not to be rude but this Harriet is stupid,” Thomas concluded, murmuring into Newt’s hair, still half-asleep. “Who the fuck would be up this early on the weekend?”

Newt only shrugged at first, but couldn’t help being curious if he was already awake anyway, so he pushed himself up on his elbows to reach over Thomas for his phone on the nightstand. “It’s past 10 o’clock.”

“AM or PM?” he asked groggily. Newt felt dumbstruck.

“You just talked about it being too early,” he reminded, trying and failing to blink away his confusion.

“10 PM could be too early, too,” he got to his own defense immediately, but the lingering sleep on his features made him look too soft to be taken seriously. “For a party, or something.”

“Yeah, well, this is not a party.”

Thomas’ initial response was only a sleepy smirk and an attempt at a wink, the he added: “Could be as much fun, though.”

“What do you even want, you’re still half sleepin’,” Newt rolled his eyes, then let a small smile capture his lips as he trailed a hand down Thomas’ side. The younger squirmed, seemingly torn between wanting to go back to sleep or playing along, but the latter got the better of him as soon as Newt’s fingers reached the soft spot on the back of his thigh.

 

 

Monday was a mess. As fast as the weekend was over, the clock ticked by about as slowly on the first day of the new week, and by the time the hand struck noon, Thomas felt like a walking and talking disaster. More walking than talking, though – Mr Janson had barged into their first class just as it was about to start, and picked out random people without telling them the reason, only that he will be meeting them at the main entrance at 11 and that they better not be late.

Thomas and Newt were among the unlucky few who got picked, and they were, indeed, on time, along with some others from different classes, but there was no teacher in sight even though it was already about fifteen minutes past the meeting time.

“Where the fuck is that fucker, I’m supposed to be in Math and I’m already failing,” a girl, seemingly a sophomore, grumbled as she looked at her phone. The other one, standing next to her, sighed in annoyance and nodded as agreement, and Newt couldn’t help but find it amusing.

“My last problem would be failing Maths right now,” he mused, before catching a glimpse of Thomas staring absent-mindedly at him, with a hint of a smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “What is it?”

“Can’t I just look at you because I love looking at you?” he asked, miserably failing at sounding genuinely sad.

“You don’t ever do that,” Newt quizzed, furrowing his eyebrows in suspicion. Thomas tried to stifle a laugh but his chest still gave an involuntary twitch as air was forced out of his lungs, and Newt lifted a hand to his face cautiously.

Thomas couldn’t hold back his chuckle at that anymore, and shook his head as he stepped closer to force Newt’s fingers away from his cheeks, “No, it’s not that. It’s just the hickey on your neck.”

“The _what_ on my _what_?”

His gasp must have had been louder than he had intended for it to be for all the heads snapping towards him, and he suddenly felt his cheeks flush under what was now Thomas’ fingers instead of his own.

“They all must think you’re gay now, with another dude stroking your face and you just letting him…” Thomas grinned, and Newt couldn’t decide if he wanted to punch or to kiss him. All eyes being on them wouldn’t have mattered in either.

He finally opted for the second, taking advantage of Thomas’ hands already cupping his cheeks as he pulled him closer. A few snickers erupted around them, making Newt cut the kiss short, but it would’ve been impossible to hold it much longer with Thomas constantly giggling, anyway.

When they pulled apart, Thomas was all smiles and mockery, “Oh my god, that was so gay, how can you kiss another boy?”

“I hate you.”

“I know,” he smirked, and swung an arm around Newt’s shoulders just about when Mr Janson pushed past them and out of the building.

“Where are your buns, Leia?” he asked, glancing back at them from above his shoulder, and motioned for the kids to follow him. Everyone else seemed confused – if not terrified –, and it somehow made them doubt any of them were even art students at all, but they all obeyed, stepping out into the wind after the teacher.

“Where are we going?” Thomas asked doubtfully, letting his hand slide down Newt’s arm to intertwine their fingers as they jogged after Mr Janson, who, thanks to running twenty minutes late, was in a definite hurry.

“To the Town Hall.”

“What for?” Newt frowned, visibly irritated by the fact that they had to rush because of a teacher who couldn’t be on time, by a date set by himself.

“The mayor wants to show us the place where your art will be,” he said, typing away on his phone and almost tripping a little too many times.

The girl who complained about Math class gave voice to her annoyance once more, “Why do you need us for that?”

“Don’t you want to take a look at where your drawings will be displayed?” he asked back, mirroring – exaggerating – her frustration.

“Hopefully mine will be displayed _nowhere_ , I’m a music student,” she huffed, and earned the involuntary laughs of almost everyone. Mr Janson didn’t bat an eye, though.

“Be thankful I got you out of class for no reason, then,” he said, finally, and the boys had to admit that although he was painfully scatterbrained, he was indeed witty. Thomas saw the girl open her mouth to make a retort then close it when she realized she had nothing to say, and concluded that, sadly or not, not only the art students’ lives were messed up.

They reached the Town Hall by noon, all covered in sweat with their faces reddened, and decided to lounge by the entrance while Mr Janson went to talk to the mayor. Five minutes passed, then five more, then they were waiting for a quarter hour once more, but there was no sign of their teacher coming back.

“Was all that bloody hurry for this?” Newt scoffed, twisting his right ankle around to relieve some of the pressure it had been put under by half-jogging all the way across the town. Thomas gave a concerned glance but didn’t say anything, only squeezed his hand a little tighter.

“You just gotta’ get used to it, Greenie,” a boy, although tall and rather broad, but definitely younger than them, sighed – not in a scornful way, more like an exhausted grandparent’s. Thomas’ face broke out into a grin, elbowing Newt in the side playfully. He didn’t say anything, only gaped first at his boyfriend, then at the blond boy, trying to conjure up something that wasn’t too rude.

“What he means by that fishface,” Thomas sniggered, then blew a kiss Newt’s way when he let out another quiet gasp, “is he wants you to respect your elderly.”

“Yeah, man,” the girl from before smacked his shoulder lightly, “seniors here.”

“What?”

“Just like the lady here said,” Thomas agreed, bowing his head to her slightly, and receiving a flirty smile in return, even though he was very obviously holding Newt’s hand, and wasn’t planning to let go, either.

“What the hell—I’m sorry, then,” he apologized, his eyes never leaving Newt. He just shrugged with a smile, waving his free hand dismissively, his face telling it wasn’t the first time something like that happened. “I’m Zart, by the way.”

“Newt,” he said, extending his arm, and shook hands with Zart. The boy then turned to Thomas and offered a handshake as well, but stopped mid-motion, not knowing whether he should just shake Thomas’ left hand or wait for him to let go of Newt’s.

He seemed to recognize his problem with a delay of a few, awkwardly long seconds, and immediately grabbed Zart’s hand with his right, apologizing, “Jeez, sorry. Thomas, by the way.”

“Cool. Are you guys…” he began, gesturing between the two boys when they returned to their previous position at each other’s sides, but Thomas didn’t let him finish.

“Graphic design students, yes,” he said, offering an unnaturally broad smile. Newt chuckled quietly, feeling slight discomfort at how the spotlight was on them again, but thankfully, none of the people there looked too bothered by seeing a gay couple.

Zart became more and more embarrassed by Thomas’ bombardment of sassy comments, and was already about to retreat to his phone when Mr Janson finally came back, not pleased in the least.

“Well, kids,” he began, leaving time for a dramatic pause before he broke the news, “turns out the mayor wrote 2 PM, not 12, as, apparently, it’s his lunchbreak for the next one and a half hours.”

A rumble of dissatisfaction broke out between them, all kids looking at each other for something to say before any of them made an irreverent comment.

“What we can do now,” Mr Janson continued, uptight and somewhat ashamed, “is having a lunch break of our own. Come on, kids, we’re getting ice cream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //for some reason the end note from the first chapter was stuck here and i couldn't do sh*t about it so i'm just writing this to make that disappear smh i'm so sorry//
> 
> //so apparently it doesn't disappear anyway. *flips table*//

**Author's Note:**

> (just to clear things up, I know Janson is not his last name, but it'd be too weird to call a teacher by his first, aaand since we don't know his last...)


End file.
